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Fic: "Suddenly I See"
Title: Suddenly I See
Author: redbrunja
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Winry & Al.
Author’s Note: Written for![[info]](https://stat.livejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif)
mjules.
Summary: “Equivalent exchange. He had his original body back, and it was inconceivable that he could be selfish enough to want her too.”
Before he'd been (reborn, resurrected) returned to his body, he hadn't thought about it at all: hadn't imagined what it would feel like to untie her long blonde hair, hadn't imagined how soft her skin would feel (like a perfectly ripe peach, only against his lips her skin released the scent of metal and heat and her). And after he had flesh again, it seemed indecent to imagine sex with her, not because he'd grown up with her, but because wasn't she in love with brother? And despite how detached Edward could seem, Alphonse knew he loved Winry, and Al already had what he’d wanted for so long.
Equivalent exchange. He had his original body back, and it was inconceivable that he could be selfish enough to want her too.
But he hadn't counted on Winry herself. Back when he was armor, she'd boost herself up with his arm and brush a kiss along the side of his helmet, and when he had a body (oh, sensation) she hadn't stopped.
And when he'd told her no and stuttered out why, and she'd hit him with a wrench and yelled at him for a fool, before marching up to Ed in front of god and everybody and asking in a voice that echoed across the expanse of the world if he was interested in having sex with her.
Mrs Hughes choked on her tea, an incredibly amused smile burst across General Mustang's face, and even Captain Hawkeye looked entertained.
Alphonse hadn't realized his brother's face could turn that particular shade of burgundy.
His brother was still gibbering incoherently when Winry continued. "No? That's good," she said, pivoting on her heel, a belated blush blooming across her cheeks, and stalking back to the spare bedroom they'd converted into a temporary workshop for her.
"See," she hissed as him as she walked past.
Al muttered something and spent the rest of the day hiding at the rebuilt Central Library, in an obscure corner of the history stacks.
He was an Elric, however, and there was only so long he could hide.
“I don’t want to know about it,” were the first (snarled) words out of Ed’s mouth when he returned home.
“Brother,” Al started and Ed actually made as if to cover his ears.
“Never mind,” Al finished.
“Good,” Edward said decisively, and make himself scarce. (As he left, Alphonse was tempted to tell him that Amestris history, 1840-1860 was nice and secluded, except for the possibility of running into Scieszka.)
He could hear banging coming from Winry’s room. After a time, the sound of metal against metal died down, and if she was still adjusting things, he couldn’t tell.
Later, when it was clear that she wasn’t going to come down for dinner, he went upstairs.
There was a long pause after he knocked on her door, and then she spoke, her voice sounding small.
“Come in.”
Al pushed the door open, and they started at each other for an eternity, Winry sitting cross-legged surrounded by the detritus of her trade, and Al looming in the doorway, feeling as awkward and oversized as if he was still encased in metal.
“I’m sorry,” Winry said as Al spoke. “I didn’t mean–”
She looked up and bit her lip. “I’m sorry about saying th-that thing, earlier.”
“It’s okay. Can I come in?”
“Of course,” she said, moving tools and bits of metal out of his way. Al walked forward, realized that the bed was the nearest place to sit and froze.
Winry huffed impatiently and stood up.
“Al,” she said, “I get it, you’re not interested–”
“That’s not–” he started.
“–it’s fine, and I would really like it if we could just forget today ever happened.” Winry stuck out her hand. “Deal?”
Al looked at her hand, short, practical nails, calluses, scars, grease stains and cuts. There were people who would think her hands unfeminine, but he knew better. Winry’s hand were marked because she helped people, because she was strong and competent and talented and instead of shaking her hand, Al wrapped both of his around hers, and brought it to his lips.
Her palm tasted of grease and sweat and her fingers fluttered at his touch.
Al looked at her, and her eyes were bright and it was the easiest thing in the world to kiss her.
Winry kissed him back, enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around his neck. Al slid his arms around her waist, and she pressed herself closer. Had sensations been like this before his transformation?
The edge of the bed was against the back of his knees, and seemed like a good idea to sit down, pulling Winry with him. Something sharp bit into his back side, his teeth snapped shut on Winry’s lip and she jerked her head back with a yelp.
“I’m so sorry,” Al said, standing up. He reached out to touch her bottom lip, which was bleeding sluggishly.
“It’s alright– so that’s where my spanner went!” Winry stepped around him, and removed a wicked looking screwdriver from the bedclothes. “I was looking for this. Oh! And there’s my occipital left-leaning wrench!”
Al looked at her, smiling fondly down at the tools in her hands, a smudge of blood on her lip and couldn’t help the answering grin that pulled at his lips. He stepped forward, licked his thumb, and brushed at her bottom lip.
“Is it still bleeding?” she asked, sounding academically interested.
“No,” he answered.
Winry turned to put her tools on the bedside table, and when she turned back to him, Al took her newly empty hands in his, carefully looked over at the bed. It looked safe, and he pulled her with him as he backed up.
“Al, are you sure?” Winry whispered.
Al leaned down, kissed her, and then gently tugged the hairband out of her ponytail. Her hair fell around her shoulders, half-curling, and he buried his hands in the mass of gold. It was softer than he’d imagined, and caught at his fingers deliciously.
“Absolutely,” he answered and Winry’s smile in response was rich with heat and lust and love.
Author: redbrunja
Fandom: Fullmetal Alchemist
Rating: PG-13
Characters: Winry & Al.
Author’s Note: Written for
mjules.Summary: “Equivalent exchange. He had his original body back, and it was inconceivable that he could be selfish enough to want her too.”
Before he'd been (reborn, resurrected) returned to his body, he hadn't thought about it at all: hadn't imagined what it would feel like to untie her long blonde hair, hadn't imagined how soft her skin would feel (like a perfectly ripe peach, only against his lips her skin released the scent of metal and heat and her). And after he had flesh again, it seemed indecent to imagine sex with her, not because he'd grown up with her, but because wasn't she in love with brother? And despite how detached Edward could seem, Alphonse knew he loved Winry, and Al already had what he’d wanted for so long.
Equivalent exchange. He had his original body back, and it was inconceivable that he could be selfish enough to want her too.
But he hadn't counted on Winry herself. Back when he was armor, she'd boost herself up with his arm and brush a kiss along the side of his helmet, and when he had a body (oh, sensation) she hadn't stopped.
And when he'd told her no and stuttered out why, and she'd hit him with a wrench and yelled at him for a fool, before marching up to Ed in front of god and everybody and asking in a voice that echoed across the expanse of the world if he was interested in having sex with her.
Mrs Hughes choked on her tea, an incredibly amused smile burst across General Mustang's face, and even Captain Hawkeye looked entertained.
Alphonse hadn't realized his brother's face could turn that particular shade of burgundy.
His brother was still gibbering incoherently when Winry continued. "No? That's good," she said, pivoting on her heel, a belated blush blooming across her cheeks, and stalking back to the spare bedroom they'd converted into a temporary workshop for her.
"See," she hissed as him as she walked past.
Al muttered something and spent the rest of the day hiding at the rebuilt Central Library, in an obscure corner of the history stacks.
He was an Elric, however, and there was only so long he could hide.
“I don’t want to know about it,” were the first (snarled) words out of Ed’s mouth when he returned home.
“Brother,” Al started and Ed actually made as if to cover his ears.
“Never mind,” Al finished.
“Good,” Edward said decisively, and make himself scarce. (As he left, Alphonse was tempted to tell him that Amestris history, 1840-1860 was nice and secluded, except for the possibility of running into Scieszka.)
He could hear banging coming from Winry’s room. After a time, the sound of metal against metal died down, and if she was still adjusting things, he couldn’t tell.
Later, when it was clear that she wasn’t going to come down for dinner, he went upstairs.
There was a long pause after he knocked on her door, and then she spoke, her voice sounding small.
“Come in.”
Al pushed the door open, and they started at each other for an eternity, Winry sitting cross-legged surrounded by the detritus of her trade, and Al looming in the doorway, feeling as awkward and oversized as if he was still encased in metal.
“I’m sorry,” Winry said as Al spoke. “I didn’t mean–”
She looked up and bit her lip. “I’m sorry about saying th-that thing, earlier.”
“It’s okay. Can I come in?”
“Of course,” she said, moving tools and bits of metal out of his way. Al walked forward, realized that the bed was the nearest place to sit and froze.
Winry huffed impatiently and stood up.
“Al,” she said, “I get it, you’re not interested–”
“That’s not–” he started.
“–it’s fine, and I would really like it if we could just forget today ever happened.” Winry stuck out her hand. “Deal?”
Al looked at her hand, short, practical nails, calluses, scars, grease stains and cuts. There were people who would think her hands unfeminine, but he knew better. Winry’s hand were marked because she helped people, because she was strong and competent and talented and instead of shaking her hand, Al wrapped both of his around hers, and brought it to his lips.
Her palm tasted of grease and sweat and her fingers fluttered at his touch.
Al looked at her, and her eyes were bright and it was the easiest thing in the world to kiss her.
Winry kissed him back, enthusiastically, wrapping her arms around his neck. Al slid his arms around her waist, and she pressed herself closer. Had sensations been like this before his transformation?
The edge of the bed was against the back of his knees, and seemed like a good idea to sit down, pulling Winry with him. Something sharp bit into his back side, his teeth snapped shut on Winry’s lip and she jerked her head back with a yelp.
“I’m so sorry,” Al said, standing up. He reached out to touch her bottom lip, which was bleeding sluggishly.
“It’s alright– so that’s where my spanner went!” Winry stepped around him, and removed a wicked looking screwdriver from the bedclothes. “I was looking for this. Oh! And there’s my occipital left-leaning wrench!”
Al looked at her, smiling fondly down at the tools in her hands, a smudge of blood on her lip and couldn’t help the answering grin that pulled at his lips. He stepped forward, licked his thumb, and brushed at her bottom lip.
“Is it still bleeding?” she asked, sounding academically interested.
“No,” he answered.
Winry turned to put her tools on the bedside table, and when she turned back to him, Al took her newly empty hands in his, carefully looked over at the bed. It looked safe, and he pulled her with him as he backed up.
“Al, are you sure?” Winry whispered.
Al leaned down, kissed her, and then gently tugged the hairband out of her ponytail. Her hair fell around her shoulders, half-curling, and he buried his hands in the mass of gold. It was softer than he’d imagined, and caught at his fingers deliciously.
“Absolutely,” he answered and Winry’s smile in response was rich with heat and lust and love.